Tales from the Streets of Liberty City
by a1boogz
Summary: Liberty City belongs to Fido (the main character from GTA3) now. He ain't the only one living there though. Check out this collection of tales from Liberty City.
1. And the Sun Rose

1 Infinity01: There are not Enough Words  
  
Fido grinned at the crowd of people standing before him. The looks in their eyes, pure fear…almost liquid. Definitely tangible though, he could smell it, could taste it. Ah well enough stalling.  
  
BLAM!  
  
Blood, brains, and bits of skull splattered against the black asphalt in a tapping crescendo of horrifying rain. The puddle that was forming from the hole in the cops head continued to get larger and larger.  
  
Fido raised his eyes from the scene on the ground before him to observe the crowd. Not one of them had moved, not one of them had made a sound. Well fuck them then.  
  
That's their mistake…  
  
Without wasting another instant, he whipped out the flamethrower. Dear God…burning flesh smelled so wonderful in the early morning.  
  
Al-I-Bus Presents:  
  
A Grand Theft Auto 3 Fanfiction  
  
Well ya'll knew I'd be back, can't keep my rugged ass down. Not to mention I have been spending a ton of quality time, with what has been deemed The Godfather of video games. Yeah well its my turn to toy with the universe in a sense…and we all know how much Bus Likes to play God…  
  
  
  
The stupid slut's eyes squeezed together tightly. Spurt after spurt of warm, white, sticky, creamy jizz splashed against her face. It covered her nose, her eyes, her chin…very little of it actually got into her mouth mind you. Fuck that shit though…he paid the bitch well enough. As a matter of fact.  
  
The shrill crack of a pistol rang out as if crying out with resentment against the stillness of the Liberty City night.  
  
Fido quickly grabbed up the handful of bills that the whore had dropped, and dipped out of the alley. Always moving, eyes darting all around, observing his terrain. This guy was the man. That meant one thing in Liberty City…  
  
He was the head man…the boss of bosses. No henchmen, they just got in the way. No friends, well one, but Ray was chilling out in sunny Miami, catching some rays. Aside from that, maybe 8-Ball, but ever since he had offed the don, Fido had heard very little from him as well.  
  
The car was a prime specimen of what a machine should be. Twelve cylinders, all forcefully violated by steaming, pumping pistons, slamming repeatedly in a phallic motion gave her life. This was what drove the machine.  
  
A few drops of water from a torn puddle caused the light from a streetlamp to shatter into a million different shafts. Each one danced in Fido's eye for a moment, before fading back into shadow and night. He turned the corner quickly.  
  
The fucking prick was right there. Walking along the sidewalk, head down, clutching the package in his bare hands. What fucking arrogance. Like the bastard believed in a God or something…It only took a moment to push the uzi trough the shut window. He had learned that from Ray also…you shoot through the window, you don't try to aim through it.  
  
Even as the empty casings popped off the carpeted floor of the Stinger, Fido was jerking the car to a screeching halt. With the final few rounds still digging themselves into the side of the building, and the moron's still warm, still breathing (though raggedly), and still registering (thoughts, senses, and above all else pain) body crashing to the ground, Fido jumped outta the whip. He looked down at the weak thing before him.  
  
No one is sure where the practice originated. Its one of those human nature things. Spit on somebody. Your mother always said it was nasty to spit. Spitting on someone though, oh goodness. So as the last few drops of saliva dashed off the guy's forehead, it was merciful that his last breath was taken. Fido happily pulled the trigger of his pistol a few more times though.  
  
Dry and harsh the shots rang out, burying themselves in the guy's face, neck, and upper chest. Fuck an open casket…and if this prick did come prancing out of the hospital in a few days, he would remember whom he had crossed. Fucking pansy.  
  
Fido tore the package from his lifeless fingers.  
  
They hadn't been there a second ago. He glanced in the rearview mirror again; blinking as if he could not fathom what was going on. Even as he tore on the handbrake and twirled the car around 360 degrees, he could feel the heat of their bullets whizzing through the air. Fucking Columbians.  
  
Didn't even make sense. Their leaders were dead as shit. He had blown up Catalina's helicopter, and her lover boy, (fuck was his name anyway), well he had died very ugly-like. No time for pity though, just time to get away.  
  
God, I love my uzi…  
  
Dude in the passenger seat blinked once, then again, then heard some glass shatter. He watched in absolute horror and astonishment as the round from the uzi tore through his boy's face, arm, and side. A sucking pop screamed over the catchy80s tunes. Blood started to pour down his partner's body, drenching him and the seat. Luckily, when the flatbed truck's tailpipe bursted through his chest, he didn't feel a thing. All that shit happened way to quick for him to keep up with.  
  
Unfortunately, the driver was still awake. Nothing above his waist seemed to be working though. Blood squirted out of his mouth, his ears, and his fucking eye was filling up with the red liquid for Christ's sake. He tried to say a prayer, but then he saw movement in the rearview.  
  
Fido hated Columbians. Forget racism, he simply could not stand the bastards. That's why he was smiling so much as he kicked in the back window of the car. He saw the driver twitching, spazzing out, and bleeding. It would only be a matter of time. Even the sound of the sirens drawing nearer and nearer did not deter him. The scavengers of evil did not bother him. Shit he was creating the matrix here, not responding to it. Flames would cover this up real nicely.  
  
The Molotov burst as soon as it tapped off the dash. Fido was long gone, but the driver couldn't escape. His toes curled up, but he could make no other noise or movements to express his agony. He could feel the flesh peel away from his bones. It tried to force its way into his body, away from the fire, while at the same time trying to escape the bubbling blood that now boiled inside of him.  
  
Please don't let me wake up in the hospital…I just want to die.  
  
I like…this format is kinda neat. Props to some dude who named the character Fido. You just gave my dawg his name. I think a bunch of these are in order. Lemme know how ya'll felt about this piece ok?  
  
Al-I-Bus  
  
If you don't know, you damned well should. Grand Theft Auto is the property of Rockstar Entertainment, I own the story though dammit 


	2. The Trouble with the Bookies

1.1 Infinity02: The Thing About the Bookies  
  
The sun glinted off the windows at St. Mark's Bistro. Finally, a nice spring day, and Liberty City was reacting wonderfully, out and about at parks, at the swimming pools, and of course, at the bookies.  
  
Well not any regular bookies:  
  
" Hey Franke, spot me 27…I got an inside tip on the mutt in four!" Franke didn't even bother to raise his head. " Lemme get sum of dat, eh waddya call it…Fongul de Almiarti…naw fuck it. Just a steak." He muttered to the waitress, while steadily locking his sights on the one moron in the room.  
  
A moment later, the gun fired.  
  
The pandemonium of people plummeting helplessly through space created the image of a human flood in the restaurant, but amid all the chaos, Franke played it cool. " Hey miss…" he tapped the table with the menu, " please bring me my food."  
  
Scuttling backwards, almost immediately, she stumbled her way towards the kitchen. Franke just laughed and pulled out a joint. " Dumb fucking cattle…" he muttered to himself.  
  
A whirr from the floor stopped his hand midway to the trizzos. The flame danced below his eye, and further below, on the floor, a red and blue rodent of some sort crept out from under the table.  
  
Check that, it wasn't a rodent…it was a remote controlled car. There was a note on it that Franke yanked up as the machine bumped to a soft stop against his leg.  
  
Dear Franke,  
  
Pork and Red Meat would  
  
have given you heart  
  
problems later in life anyway……  
  
2 Fido  
  
The next muthafukkin moment, the goddamn car blew up. Flames, tiny bits of scarful shrapnel stormed through the air for a moment, then the air combusted upon itself.  
  
Hey…man, lemme tell ya….The muthafukin darkness hit that bastard bad.  
  
2.1.1 Author's Interruption: Some time earlier  
  
It had seemed like a miracle when it happened. At first Franke figured it was a set up, but then he examined his options. King Courtney sat across the table from him, stones glowing a sickly white that reminded him of that skeleton he had seen in the sea caves that one time. Immediately to his left and right stood a number of Yardie dealers, all of 'em hooded out with big gunz.  
  
Shit, it wasn't like he could just say NO anyway. Besides, a coach bus shouldn't be too tough to command and conquer.  
  
So Franke had taken the job and found himself posted up outside of the stadium. He looked across the street at the imposing grey of Fort Staunton, and thought about the time Fido had spanned the city in the tank posted there. The ensuing fire had consumed nearly a full third of Fort Staunton. And of course, Fido had blasted his way out and disappeared.  
  
Franke shook his head clear; here it came, up from the right. The Coach streamlined through the dusk, as a whale must deep beneath the waves. When the hole in the road opened up before it, it was all the driver could do to stay in his seat as the bus toppled over and skidded into a ditch.  
  
When he lifted his head up, and peered through the rising dust cloud the Coach driver swore he could see a silhouette slipping between the dusty shadows. Suddenly his vision stopped vibrating and focused, and the driver saw the muzzle of the Uzi peer through the mist. Bullets move fast though, and the driver never had a chance to see the flame dance on the tip of the gun.  
  
Scaling the side of the bus, Franke pulled himself through the side door. Without a word, he opened up on the crew inside. Bodies flailed back against the desks and chairs that filled the room. Someone crashed through a blackboard, and chalk dust choked the air.  
  
He felt the fire, but slid open the transponder and input the FULL HEALTH CHEAT. Then he slammed his foot down on the gas. The bus tore through a pile of earth and foliage as it bounced back onto the highway. It was only a couple of blocks to the meeting ground, and Franke knew of a couple of spots he could hit up to dissuade the police from responding. He only had two stars on his metre anyway…  
  
2.1.2 Author Interruption: Still in the past  
  
The bus slid past the construction site, leaving the University in the distance. He was about seventy or so yards away from the left, and he had no cops anywhere in sight. Things couldn't have gone better if he planned them.  
  
Then the tan Patriot ripped through the side of the Coach.  
  
Bricks flew threw the air, and sparks caught the lights on some streetlamps. The next moment an entire front of the building was covered in orange, hungry flame. Franke dropped his gaze, the metre had four stars.  
  
He pulled himself through the Coach's driver side window. Someone was going to pay for this insult. As well as this now lost investment of time and effort. Dropping off of the capsized beast, Franke yanked out an AK. He reached into his pocket and devoured a couple of adrenaline pills. The lancing daggers of pain that danced through his form with each breath were suddenly soothed in a flow of sweet tranquility. His vision rolling out before him, Franke opened the spout of his M16 on the movement off to his right. The Patriot kept coming, ignoring the bullets that panged harmlessly off the roof and windshield. Then the driver's side door popped open and return fire was issued from the brother M16.  
  
Bullets tore a hole in Franke's right shoulder, and, as it spilt into the air with a red haze, he fell backwards against the coach. The Patriot skidded to a halt forty yards away and the driver walked towards Franke.  
  
" You figured you'd just slide with the money to MY bookies eh. Not today kiddo."  
  
Just before the grenade under his vest exploded, Franke quickly inputted the FULL HEALTH CHEAT and the FULL BODY ARMOUR CHEAT. Then he got the impression of black leather and green canvas.  
  
And then the grenade exploded.  
  
2.1.3 Author's Interruption: Still in the past. Okay! Lets do it fella! Chuckle  
  
He collapsed on top of the four story-parking garage in Newport. Six stars on his metre, and a mushroom cloud floating down the block, he needed to lay low for a second.  
  
Fido hadn't been killed. Franke breathed deeply, and glanced around cautiously. Those fucking Yardies! He should have realized that whenever a white boy does a Yardie's dirty work he ends up dead. Nothing could be done about that right now, but he could pay a visit to King Courtney's blocks and pay off the kingpin a little.  
  
Not pausing, he vaulted over the side of the roof, and plummeted a hundred yards down to the unforgiving concrete. His body thudded harshly off of the ground, and he quickly threw in FULL HEALTH before heading up the alley.  
  
A pair of red Yardie cars rolled down the strip in front of him. One skipped to and fro on its switches, the slowed in front of a streetwalker. As she leaned down to the driver's side window, Franke opened the nozzle on the blowtorch.  
  
Flames danced across the grill of both cars and then ate at the car's occupants. The ensuing explosion threw Franke and the chick away from the car. Fiddling with the transponder at his wrist, Franke rose from the ground and strode down the street. He unleashed a barrage of rockets at the group of cars halted by the traffic light. The flare of red light shone off the harbour and sparks and ash sprinkled the apartments that lined the bay.  
  
A Yakuza Stinger sprang to life and tore away from the complex.  
  
Four Yardies leapt out of the shadows and began to unload their nines at Franke. Ignoring the petty fire, he opened up a burst from his AK and sent them tumbling to the ground beneath them. Then he yanked a Yardie car open and ripped off towards a stand at the corner.  
  
Tha Yardie Spank pusher barely had time to throw himself clear as the car bounced on two wheels through it. A moment later it exploded and burned the stand, the dealer, and the Spank into black steaming goodness.  
  
Then Franke yanked a cab and sped off towards an alley. A Stinger idled in the shadows for a moment, then waited as a horde of LCPD blew past him. Satisfied that everything was cool, Fido took off towards his Bellview Park Garage.  
  
2.1.4 Author's Interruption: Almost there I promise  
  
Franke eased the cab to a stop in St. Marks. The L-train showered harmless sparks down on the cars parked there, and the lights in the Bistro glowed brightly in the night sky. Behind it , of course, lie the bookies that Franke figured were the cause of this. Well since he was getting jerked already, he might as well have some fun.  
  
Flooring the gas and releasing the break, Franke pushed the Sentinel across the street and up the staircase. With a shuddering explosion of glass and light, Franke tore the car through the side of the building, and dragged the debris down onto the bookies. As the ceiling gave way, Franke dove out of the side of the car, and began to unload his Uzi. As he hit the ground, and rolled he rolled a pair of grenades across the floor. He rose to a crouch just as the explosions sprayed more dust and shrapnel across the room.  
  
Two stars sprang to life on the metre, but Frank, quickly brought his M16 into play. Raking the air with a hollow screech, the clip unloaded into the dazed occupants of the bookies. As the last group dropped, hollowly to the floor, Franke spun on his heels and headed to the ground floor entrance to the Bistro. He was hungry.  
  
2.1.5 Author's Interruption: Ok now we're back on tack. Kinda Terrintino eh?  
  
Franke gasped a wet sullen cough as he dragged himself out from beneath the rubble. The entire building was gone, but he had been lucky enough to get blown behind the bar by the detonation. His arm was broken, check that it was gone, and with it went his transponder. His only hope was to…  
  
A swift and violent kick to his jaw, not only shattered the bones there, but slowed his thought process as well. Franke rolled his eyes up and caught an impression of black leather and green cargo, before the harsh heel of a shoe ground its way into his face.  
  
Fido reached into his pocket and pulled out a stone. Moonlight shattered into a million different shades of blue and yellow and red and green as it struck the diamond. Franke couldn't help but blink in surprise. Fido grinned and pulled out his nine. Forcing it into Franke's mouth he pulled the trigger.  
  
Franke's body jerked as the bullet tore his life away. Then it pounded dully off the ground. Fido grinned, reduced his wanted level, and jumped into his Stinger. And sped away.  
  
He didn't like gambling anyway.  
  
Thanks for reading, Al-I-Bus, A1Boogz@aol.com 


	3. Waterfront Property

Infinity03:Yeah you got guns but….  
  
Lo had seen them when he walked into the dojo. Two Sentinels, deep prune, sat across the street. The setting sun glared reddly off the car's lights…. and both drivers sunglasses. Things like this tended to lead to problems. So he did what any normal Liberty City citizen would do in this situation…  
  
Kick the door open on his way out and unleash a barrage from his twin AKS….  
  
Al-I-Bus breaks the set open with his second Grand Theft Auto 3 fic…{Doing my Best Scarface} "Wua? Ya' never see a BadGuy like me again. SO SAY GOOD NIGHT TO THE BAD GUY OK!?"….HAHAHAHA BUS IS BACK…Chuckle, oh lord. SIGH.  
  
The burst from Lo's AK tore through the front of the first Sentinel. Even as the sound of shattering glass filled the air, Lo had already gotten his hand to his coat pocket. As the pelting bullets produced flame to burst through the hood of the vehicle, a pin was being tugged from a grenade.  
  
An earsplitting boom thundered over downtown Staunton Island, and the first Sentinel erupted into a fountain of glimmering mettle followed immediately by crackling flame.  
  
Dropping the spent rifle to the street Lo sprinted towards the car. Pulling the shotgun out from beneath his jacket he was able to drop the two guys sitting on the street side.  
  
*Author Interruption  
  
Dude riding shot pushed his way out of a side door and busted offa'couple real quick with the nine. Unfortunately they didn't do too much. Lo was a professional obviously, and when he had entered the Dojo he had seen those petty mobsters in those Sentinels. Quickly inputting the INFINITE WEAPONS CHEAT was second nature, so was inputting FULL BODY ARMOUR.  
  
It woulda been an amazing show if he was using that incendiary ammunition. Ya' know, they used it to set blimps on fire in WWI or WWII or some shit. Anyway the thing about that kinda ammo is that, well it glows.  
  
So picture this scene right…the sun is setting, but it's looking all on fire and stuff. Things are just at that golden moment right as it sets ablaze the waters off the coast. Like the city is sittin in a fireball, on a comet or something. These bullets is whizzing through the air, all flashing blue and yellow and white. Shit's is whistling, pinking off the car, the meter's next to the spots, the lampposts…the street lights are jingling as they pop.  
  
The crazy part is there's only, like, one scream, right. For real, dude that was bustin the nine, caught two in the throat and, something like, a half a clip in the rest of the face. The slacker in the backseat. Well, Lo needed the car so,  
  
*Sorry about that it won't happen again.  
  
He yanked open the street side door, and aimed a well-placed kick at him. Jerking his legs out of the car, he vaulted off of the street, into the air and dropped down gracefully on top of the Sentinel.  
  
The shotgun barked twice, then the Sentinel roared to life and tore away from the Dojo.  
  
Cipriani needed to be paid a visit, and some questions needed to be asked.  
  
There was no war between the Yakuza and the mob at this time. That is what made things really dicey about now. The trouble was that Lo might have overreacted, just a tad here, and, well honestly, with the mob having able proven leadership like Cipriani and the don's son still around to fill the void, and the Yakuza being in absolute chaos since the deaths of Kenji and Asuka, the thin icing was cracking.  
  
Wasn't too much that could be done about that right now, though, and Lo whipped the Sentinel through the Liberty streets. He tore through the curves, even making sure he launched off the jump on Portland Bridge. It slid through the air: a speeding, spinning, and prune bullet slowing to flip once or twice before slamming back onto its wheels.  
  
Sixteen seconds later (that's random enough I guess) the Sentinel's brakes squealed to a halt outside the restaurant.  
  
A group of suits raised their darkened eyes. The door opened, and out emerged Lo. Without a second glance at the flunkies he strode towards the staircase, towards the roof. Stride never broken, Lo blasted off a round from his shotgun just as the goons figured out what was happening. Four bodies pounded against the hard concrete, and Lo's footsteps echoed off the marble stairs.  
  
*Author Interruption  
  
He put in the INFINITE AMMO CHEAT and pulled the M16's barrel up. Seven mobsters leapt out of the door, all of them squeezing off shots on twin Uzis. The bullets tore through the first guy's right eye. It yanked out brain and something else that stuck to the wall with a rubbery splat. His body dropped to the floor twitching and spewing blood into the evening air.  
  
Rounds from the M16 dropped more men, but before they all fell, a burst from a shotgun yanked Lo back off of his feet. He winced as he crashed through a table and into the brick wall that overlooked the street below. The vest had saved his life, and he just had time to input FULL HEALTH when the second blast from the shotgun ripped him through the wall and down onto the street below. Four gunmen aimed from the broken silhouette where, a moment ago, there was a wall. Lo didn't move, and they trained their AKS on him.  
  
A Mafia Sentinel sped away from the restaurant, streamlining darkly in the newly born starlight.  
  
From above spilled a torrent of flame and steel that instantly removed all of the gunmen. A couple more broke out of the kitchen in time to see a flash of green cargo pants pull themselves off a fire escape ladder on onto the roof of the neighboring building. They dropped their eyes to the scene before them immediately (and thus missing the sight of a red and white Dodo shooting upwards into the sky), and began to fire their weapons down at Lo.  
  
*So sorry, don't know whatever came over me.  
  
Luigi tightened the collar of his jacket a little more. Getting Toni out had cut things slim. He had to duck out of the back of a shootout just to get out the backdoor. Once he was in that Sentinel he knew things would be cool for a while. This friggin Yakuza hadn't taken too nicely to being tailed, and now his reaction was costing his outfit money, manpower, and time.  
  
Fortunately, there still wasn't a war of any sort going on between the mob and the Yakuza. But that waterfront property in Staunton, right across the bridge from Newport. It was calling to Toni, and for good reason. Those docks there could do a ton of business, and the garage and alley provided a wonderful fortress to use if an attack came from a rival unit, not to mention its value as a storage facility. Toni knew this was something that he needed to keep in mind, especially if those Fuckin Forelli brothers were still gonna make noise.  
  
So he did his job. He spoke with Luigi, and they both talked to Joey. Eventually they realized that the value of the waterfront (simply on boat trafficking alone) was too much to pass up.  
  
Luigi hired the guy, and that's why he was the last one out of the building when "nutty ass Asian" came in blasting things dead with his AK. In any event, things had gone sour. He needed to get back to the compound to regroup, and to keep that Yakuza nutjob away from him.  
  
As a matter of fact, it would be best for the fucking guy to end up iced. No need to start a war. I mean they were just casing the joint.  
  
Luigi picked up his cell even as the car pulled up to the driveway.  
  
The Stinger calms him somewhat. He relishes the rumble of the V10, and torques the auto through the underbelly of St. Marks.  
  
Hitting a safe house near the police station had netted him that, as well as a multitude of weapons. Fully replenished, he began anew his search for the scum who had dishonored him. Not once did thoughts of reporting back to base cross Lo's mind.  
  
Instead he continued to case the streets. He knew that sooner or later someone would bite at the bait. And when that happened. Slipping a hand into his pocket, Lo gently caressed the hard plastic that lay within. It would all go perfectly.  
  
The sun had just begun to sink behind the tallest of Portland's buildings when a few things happened at once. Lo turned the curve in front of the Leone complex and headed towards the L-Train tracks. Into his rearview slipped the imposing sight of two jet black Mafia Sentinels and an accompanying jet black Stretch. Lo growled with the clutch and then burned down the black asphalt. The Sentinels' engines howled in response and tore off behind him.  
  
A mobster dressed in a prototypical black suit peered out of the moon roof of his Sentinel. The sound of the Uzi snapped through the evening air causing sparks to shoot out of the back of Lo's Stinger. Suddenly, the buildings that had been speeding on either side of Lo stopped with an abrupt crack, and the lead Sentinel went flying over the red and white Stinger. It spun twice as it hung in the air, before blowing through the side of a building in a shower of flame and debris. Bricks littered the pavement, and a small puddle of red sticky life began to ooze into the gutter.  
  
The second car didn't hesitate a moment in spinning past the wreckage. It smashed up against the side of the Stinger and tried desperately to drive Lo into the stoop of a Brownstone. He slammed on the brake and pulled his wheel sharply towards his opponent. Striking near the gas tank, he caused the Sentinel to tilt horribly on the ground, for a moment, before smashing to fiery bits against another building.  
  
Just then a rocket smashed into the rear of the Stinger and threw the car up a ramp, over the subway entrance, and onto the train tracks.  
  
No cops anywhere, but as Lo saw his car slide towards an oncoming train he blinked once. Then he blacked out.  
  
A small grey Mananna crashed against the red and white wreck, stopping it cold. Fido sprang from the car, and reaching under the Stinger, grabbed for Lo's limp body. His black leather groaned as he tugged back. With a dry snap, Lo's seatbelt snapped and Fido dove with him off the tracks, a moment later the train wrenched a gaping hole in the track. Said train had happened to crash into two cars, which had both ignited and exploded.  
  
Quite terrible really. Those poor people.  
  
The wind shredded his eyebrows and deepened the gashes on his body. Fido laughed when he saw this. This man, Lo…he was quite the challenger. Unfortunately Fido had already deemed the realm CLOSED to new superpowers. Looking down from here was a feat in itself he supposed.  
  
Taking a deep breath Fido coiled his body against the girder tower, and then sprang off the building falling into the misty depths below. As he fell, Fido fell into an almost trance like state. His transponder danced beneath him and suddenly a shockwave of power leapt from his body.  
  
He smashed through the cement with the force of a burning locomotive. There was a crater nearly eight feet deep. As Fido opened his eyes, the dust cleared almost instantly. He saw fire. Flames danced in the air, consuming everything but the darkness. It made Fido laugh.  
  
He turned around, and looked back up at the radio tower. Poor kid. Ah well, Liberty was not ready for another war. Not right now. Leave things to skirmishes, and everything's good. The realm is CLOSED, No Admittance. Comprende!.  
  
Fido walked away from it all, caught a Patriot over by the grocery store. He tried to ride up the vertical cliff again, but he fell of and rolled over twice in the parking lot. He was kind of miffed by this, and decided that it would be best to just leave. So he did.  
  
His eyes stumbled open. He blinked once. Then he vomited.  
  
Lo was gripped with fatigue, and he felt himself start to slip away. There wouldn't be any hospital trips from this one. But he made the mob feel, made them boys know, that THEY were not to be fucked with lightly.  
  
Cuz he was just a soldier, he didn't even run shit.  
  
Then Lo reached the pocket he had been struggling to get at.  
  
He pulled out the plastic detonator that had been in the pocket.  
  
And he pushed the button.  
  
The Stinger sat in the tunnel in front of AmmuNation in Portland. Its lights flashed once, illuminating the side of the block. And then the car exploded.  
  
So did three other cars parked on the same block within close proximity. So did the bombs that Lo had left at Cipriani's Restaurant.  
  
From his post on the radio tower, Lo could just make out the flames leaping out above St. Marks. A spout of saliva and blood poured out of his mouth, and he strangled. Then, for a second, he laughed. It barked loud and clear out over the Portland night.  
  
A moment later, a sniper's bullet tore out his eye, ricocheted against the back of his skull, and then exploded.  
  
…..AmmuNation was not damaged in the explosion, so please stop asking. 


	4. More Than A Mouthful

More Than He Could Chew Al-I-Bus  
  
" So you see Laslow. While I'm sure that most people love peanut butter. All I'm saying is that it is a sacrifice that needs to be made. I mean if we are all in agreement that peanut butter is the mode through which the government gets that microchip inside of you.well I don't want to speak for anyone else. But I would rather be free." Silence and then the intrusion of Laslow's voice: " Gee, thanks for the call, but that's all the time we have," static screamed through the air as the caller tried to make his last point, " Laslow I don't think that!" a harsh click cut him off, " Well folks that is all the time we have today so I'll see you tomorrow, but before we leave we have some wonderful ideas being presented, for you especially, from Love Media Inc."  
  
Fido grinned as the commercials began. Pressing his foot harder against the gas, he felt sweat begin to break out on his forehead as the Patriot inched slowly up the sheer, practically vertical side of the mountain. The checkpoint glimmered tantalizingly before him, and as the Patriot slowly ate up the distance between it and its goal the timer on his transponder emitted an admonishing beep.  
  
As the timer reached two seconds, the Patriot slid past the final checkpoint. Releasing a triumphant whoop, Fido leapt from the vehicle seconds before it slid backwards down the mountain and smashed towards the manors of Cedar Grove. He noted with some humour that the Patriot bounced off of a dark blue Cartel Cruiser before plunging out of sight.  
  
Walking towards the precipice, Fido felt the heat from the explosion waft all the way up to him. Below him residents of Shoreside Vale dashed about terrified as the flaming wreckage of the Patriot continued, borne by its momentum, towards a goal only it knew of.  
  
Almost done.  
  
In any event, he walked over to the edge of the cliff, paused a second, then leapt from the edge. Wind rushed up past him, ripping at his flailing limbs and tearing at his hair as he plummeted more than two hundred feet into the park below. Greens, blues, and browns rushed up at him, eventually all bleeding together into an indecipherable, yet unavoidable, mass. Air was crushed from his lungs as he made impact.  
  
Dust hovered over the depression in the earth. It danced away on golden beams of sun, as the wind began to blow. In the crater's center a figure twitched. Fido feebly willed a hand forward, fingers dancing upon the keys of his transponder, and moments later he returned to a status of: FULL HEALTH--FULL ARMOUR. A brief wave of pain coursed through his limbs, and lightning flashed through his extremities, but he was fine. He lifted his head up to stare at the sun in the sky.  
  
Something he couldn't conquer.  
  
Ah well, he still had Liberty City under his thumb.  
  
When his laughter coursed through the afternoon air, some people looked around uneasily. Others (mainly those wearing purple or red leathers and caps) started suddenly, glanced around uneasily, as if searching for a ghost, and then melted away from the streets.  
  
They knew about the evil men could do. One man in particular. He woulda had to have been a fucking lawyer. That's what I should have figured from the start. Well it doesn't even matter. I'm gonna pack these shits up. Wrap these fucking scarves around my wrists and hands. And I'm a bust the shit outta these muthafuckas when I catch sight of him.  
  
I figure he's gonna have at least two or three guys with him. Maybe something could explode. Wouldn't be a bad idea.  
  
God I love how these parts snap into place. Oiled and ready to split air, flesh, and blood. Nobody fucks with Greasy Joe's Cafe.  
  
You're prolly a tad confused by all this, but don't worry. The shit will come to fruition soon. Basically, I ain't moving outta this joint. This is the spot to be, and this bastard ain't gonna get a chance to get cops in here to get me out. So, he got a deed, so he got some papers. Well I got these automatics. Dumb ass had no business storming in here making the kinda noise he did.  
  
Shit, it doesn't even matter. I'll kill 'em all. When guys like this pull the strings, the paydays are usually worth it. Everything about the bastard screamed money. For starters, the desk was oak. It had a gold crest on it, and the drapes were made outta something so thick, they had to still be alive. Speaking of alive, Lenny Bloom was certain that he had seen that polar bear rug work its jaws a little.  
  
Basically, the fucking guy was loaded.  
  
Shouldn't even be a tough job. Get some deeds, and bust into the joint. Try not to notify the courthouse right away, that way if things looked dicey, he could still get a guy to get a guy to get some guys. Nothing Lenny hadn't had experience with.  
  
So when he left the office, he thought he had nothing to worry about.  
  
After being forcibly removed from the property, via the window overlooking the parking lot, Lenny realized that things were never this simple in Liberty City.  
  
As he forced himself into a sitting position some guy floated past him. His eyes glowed a dull gold, and rays of light seemed to emanate from his very form.  
  
He looked at Lenny, " You just shouldn't eat the peanut butter man." The guy smiled, and then flashed off into the heavens.  
  
Lenny never saw him again. When he left the office this time, the boss type rich guy had slapped a couple of burly looking, knuckle draggers onto his back. " For his own protection," he had said, Lenny wasn't sure, but he definitely smelled an ulterior motive. Whatever. He also gave him an envelope to take to the Yardies.  
  
Fucking Yardies couldn't trust those guys in a church. They were discreet though, and since they were so generally untrustworthy, their word would never hold up in court. Not as if they ever testified.  
  
Lenny told the knuckle draggers to wait outside the door, and walked into King Courtney's office. He almost laughed out loud at that though, office. The guy sat behind a desk in a garage in Newport. Real nice set up for a crime lord.  
  
Didn't really matter though, Lenny had a job to do so he did it. Sliding the envelope across the desk to Courtney, Lenny leaned back in his chair and waited for a response. Imagine his surprise when Courtney finished reading the enclosed letter, put a wad of bills into his coat pocket, and pulled out a pair of nickel plated .45s, which he placed on the desk.  
  
Coldly, he glared down Lenny. Sweat started to bead up on Lenny's forehead, and he twitched nervously when Courtney grabbed up the twin guns and pointed them at him. Courtney's cold eyes glared through the sights, and Lenny was sure that he could see Death dancing over a dark corner of the garage.  
  
Courtney's visage slowly slipped into a smile. Then he slid the twins back into their holsters. Pushing back from the desk, he straightened up and whistled shrilly between his teeth.  
  
Two red-eyed Yardies opened the door, and ushered in the knuckle draggers. They closed the door behind them. They spoke to Courtney in deep patois for a second, and then turned to Lenny.  
  
Grinning at his discomfort, they clapped him fraternally on the back and led him and his knuckle dragging flunkies out of the room. " So you see Liberty City, there is really no epidemic of sewer crocs in this city. The disappearance of those kids has a natural explanation, and with a little more digging, our wonderful (cough cough) police force will uncover the truth." Fido could barely contain his laughter at that one. He loved Chatterbox and Laslow was a riot.  
  
His newly acquired Cartel Cruiser idled quietly near the airport. Wasn't too much happening right now, and he was bored. When Fido got bored, things usually got downright deadly for everyone else. However he just wasn't in the mood today.  
  
No amount of bloodcurdling shrieks could quell his boredom. With nearly everything in the city conquered, Fido needed a new project. There weren't any bosses left really. The Yakuza was in chaos, the mob trying to pull itself together. Those Columbians were pesky, but they weren't really a threat to him and his endless arsenal. Maybe he should finally, pay King Courtney back for double-crossing him.  
  
Fido pondered this for a while. It would be too simple to go in Courtney's office blazing fire. All too soon his fun would be over. No, he needed a task to follow through to the end. Something to entertain him. It had been a week or so since he left that young Yakuza hanging from the radio antennae down by Atlantic Quays. The town had taken that message appropriately.  
  
He slid the behemoth vehicle into drive as Laslow cut to commercial. Might as well head over to Portland and get a bite to eat. Greasy Joe's beat that damn burger joint any day. I knew it was on as soon as those cars slid into the lot. With the mob having its troubles, no one had pulled up in a Sentinel in some time. Let alone two. When the Yardie's and knuckle draggers emerged from their vehicles, I saw immediately that my suspicions were well founded.  
  
So I did what anyone woulda done in my situation. First I shut off the lights to the café, it was a slow day, and only a couple of regulars dotted the spot. I shooed them into the back, figuring that these over the hill, obese, sloppy truckers wouldn't do anything but get themselves killed.  
  
Those automatics were ready, but I needed to greet these guys with something more, so I tapped the button I had installed specially in the cash register for this occasion. Let the pricks open the door.  
  
Of course they did, eyes full of bloody murder. Then the localized explosion blasted heat and flames through the front of the store. Only one of the Yardies got caught in it though. The other fucking pricks were far enough away to avoid it.  
  
So it was gonna get a little sticky. Nothing I wasn't prepared for. The knuckle draggers moved kinda quickly though, diving through the doorframe, and rolling behind some booths. I didn't have a clear shot, and I knew the other Yardie was coming, so I ducked down behind the counter.  
  
A moment later some bottles above my head disintegrated as the shotgun burst crunched the glass and wooden shelves. Nothing too big. Even though my palms had gotten a little sweaty.  
  
I poked up like one of those moles in that mallet game, and sprayed a few rounds from my Uzi, catching the other Yardie fuck in the arm. He shouted out like a little bitch and dropped his gun. But he also dropped to the ground and rolled over as fast as he could.  
  
So now I was pinned down, but they couldn't advance on me either. Only I had no idea what kind of arsenal they were packing. I was inching away from my spot, towards the end of the long counter, sliding slowly, and quietly over the floor, when the grenade bounced to a stop right in my lap.  
  
Fuck this careful shit, nothing to do but jump, so I did, and a second later; the next explosion filled my place. Now who the fuck was gonna clean this shit up! A Cartel Cruiser screeched to a halt outside in the lot. I noticed its blue hulking mass, but they weren't gonna help me out at all.  
  
Funny, I never saw a Columbian rocking green combat pants though.  
  
Didn't really have time to think about this, as those big burly muthafuckers started to advance. Every time I popped off a couple rounds, they ducked low. I couldn't hit 'em, but I'd be damned if I let these punks outmuscle me.  
  
Wasn't much time to think of a plan, and I clutched my trustworthy Uzi's tightly. Fuck it, I could at least go out in a blaze of glory. Wishing that Fido had shown me how to operate the keys on my transponder, I steeled my self for my final rush.  
  
Then I heard some horrid screams of agony, and a single pistol shot.  
  
Shit was getting scary now, but I needed to assess my situation. Peeking around my cover, I nearly pissed my pants when I saw my restaurant. It was this fucking guy Fido, and he was busy kicking the leaking bodies of both of the knuckle draggers. The Yardie's head was pretty much gone, and a pool of blood slowly spread out around his prone form.  
  
He stopped punishing the corpses and glanced up at me. Shrugging in his usual nonchalant way, he grinned at me. I sighed one hell of a sigh of relief.  
  
Fido just got a bad rep, he ain't really that bad of a guy I swear it. Lenny once again thought things were going well. Even with the booby trap on the front door, only one of his boys had been dropped. He peered out of the Sentinel's window, watching as his boys advanced carefully. That's when shit got messy though.  
  
He heard the Cruiser screech into the lot, and craned his neck, expecting to see a couple of Columbians jump out looking confused. Instead of that he saw Fido pop out of the driver's side door.  
  
Of all the fucking bad luck!  
  
There was not a thing he could do about it, and Lenny had no wishes to tangle with that bad ass. He ducked under the seat as quickly and quietly as possible, and when he was sure that Fido had walked into the diner, he gunned the engine and tore away from Greasy Joe's.  
  
No need to hang around, he already knew what the outcome would be. Just mentioning his name to this kind of person had the expected outcome. First the rich prick had hushed me immediately, and then he sprang towards his windows and pulled the shades closed.  
  
From the window he moved towards the liquor cabinet and poured himself a tall glass of Jack, straight. He poured another one and passed it over to me. Anger wasn't an option; nobody tangled with Fido and came out on top. And those who expected anything but that were dumber than the bodies Fido always left behind.  
  
So now it was time for some new planning. Lenny wasn't sure what the man could do, but he was assured instantly when the phone rang. The guy's slightly goofy smile turned to a viciously malevolent one. He looked at lot like a shark at this point.  
  
After hanging up the phone he returned his attention to Lenny: " Look, I'm paying you a lot of money for this, so I'm going to need you to do something big for me."  
  
It was the tone of voice that scared Lenny the most. Not the smallest hint of passion, anger, or anything. Almost as if he was explaining to a child why you shouldn't put your hand in the fire.  
  
Lenny wasn't sure why, but he felt his head nod well before he had mentally assured himself. " Lenny, I'm going to have to use you as bait," Lenny gulped, " but you will be very well backed up. There will be two tanks present. And if you would be so kind as to open up the cabinet over there."  
  
Anonymous rich guy took a swig from his drink as he finished, and pointed towards a cabinet near the wall. Lenny jumped up and yanked it open, to be greeted by the dull glint of a rocket launcher. Two boxes of ammo lay at the floor of the closet as well.  
  
" Think you can handle it?" Lenny merely grinned in reply. The rain poured out of the sky in sheets. Lightning streaked across the black void above us, casting everything in a pale white glow momentarily. The wind howled off the river. I shoulda been scared, but wit this guy around, nothing could hurt me.  
  
I refilled his glass; Fido had downed four rum'n'cokes, and entire bottle of jack, and ate at least three plates of food. He didn't look a bit drunk, or stuffed, but he did look alert.  
  
After I had explained what happened to him, I knew he would help. Fido didn't have many friends, shit he didn't need any, but he was loyal as long as he didn't get screwed over.  
  
All the unmentionable types in the city knew what he had done to the Cartel, and accepted it. Even the police. There was absolutely no way to keep this man away from his goals. And right now, protecting Greasy Joe's was his goal. Fido was altogether happy with the way things were turning out today. Earlier he had been bored, but right now, he knew that nothing could be better. He was sure they'd return, and when they did, he'd have dolls to play with, and then a mystery to solve. For now, though, he just focused on his food. The rain had stopped, but the clouds still bunched together in the sky. As Lenny and his entourage crossed the Callahan Bridge, he glanced up at the sky. They seemed to present an ominous sign, but for who? Reassuringly he stroked the cold piece of steel in his lap. Fuck it, they'd win.  
  
The Rumpo stopped on the road, up the block from Greasy Joe's, no need to let them see him coming. Grinding to a stop behind him, sat two massive tanks. Lenny had heard of crooked cops before, but he was not familiar with crooked soldiers. No matter, they were on his side, and should even the odds up some.  
  
He hefted the heavy launcher onto his shoulder, and approached the restaurant as quietly as he could. Sweat dripped down his face, not simply from the exertion of carrying the launcher, but also from a bit of apprehension.  
  
All too soon he was in front of the joint. Their earlier scuffle had left this stretch of road without any roadblocks, or traffic, and since he was covered in darkness (no moonlight pierced the thick clouds, Lenny took his time.  
  
Dropping to one knee he brought the weapon up, lined up his sight, and fired. The rocket streaked through the sky leaving a trail of black smoke behind it. It crushed through the already ruined front of the store, and erupted in a mountain of flame.  
  
Not relaxing, Lenny reloaded the weapon, and moved to his left. He thought he saw a shadow move within the rubble, so he fired again. The second rocket carried high, tearing through a bit of roof and then burying itself in the hill behind the restaurant.  
  
Still nothing. He didn't dare approach the place to quickly, that would be foolish, so he slowly stalked through the lot, finally taking up a position next to a parked truck. Raising the launcher again, he settled down his wildly beating heart and tried to bust off another rocket. That was when the truck he was pressed against sprang to life.  
  
Jerking back, Lenny tumbled to the ground, firing a rocket aimlessly up into the sky where it struck a haphazardly flying Dodo. As the scorched wreckage of the plane soared towards the harbour, the truck shifted gears and slid forward.  
  
He was able to dodge the wheels, but the grill of the automobile bounced him back several yards. Before he blacked out, Lenny pressed the button on his two-way. The Rhino's up the block grumbled to life, and stormed towards the restaurant.  
  
A door opened and then slammed shut, Lenny caught an impression of green combat pants, and gritted his teeth. Then the pain in his head flared, and he felt the blackness engulf him. He had called it alright. The cowards had waited for dark, and tried to recruit more help. I nearly pissed myself when I saw the two Rhino's come tearing towards the building. Well if anyone could handle this, it would be Fido.  
  
He dragged the unconscious form of Lenny behind the truck, and stripped him of his rocket launcher. The Rhino's continued to bear down on him, but Fido didn't hesitate a bit. Taking a step back he fired a volley of rockets into the paths of the behemoth vehicles. Not expecting that to stop him, he quickly dropped the launcher and sprinted towards the back of the parking lot.  
  
One of the Rhino's flew up awkwardly, balancing on one side, and then crashing back to the ground. The other one continued on as if nothing had happened. The vehicles ate up the distance between them and Fido, but he didn't so much as turn around.  
  
Reaching the wall first, he vaulted himself up and over onto the hill under the Callahan Bridge. Spinning around I watched him toss a handful of bottles at the tanks. The Molotov's set everything in the area on fire, and the red flames danced up, illuminating the night sky.  
  
One of the tanks screeched to a halt, and the doors on either side opened. One o the soldiers stumbled out of the monster, screaming bloody murder. His body glowed like a funeral pyre, and within instants he had dropped motionlessly to the ground.  
  
The other soldier didn't flinch at all. He unleashed a barrage of fire from his M16, tearing up dirt behind Fido. The guy looked almost sure of himself, and with the second tank bringing its cannon up to fire, he seemed protected.  
  
Both the soldier and the Rhino froze, as Fido disappeared behind the building. Straining against the darkness, they tried to follow and predict where he would reemerge. Unfortunately, for them, they couldn't, and Fido flew down from the restaurant's roof, landing with a thud on top of the Rhino.  
  
Ignoring the vehicle for a moment, he trained his AK on the free soldier, and unleashed a barrage at the guy's skull. He dropped to the ground, and lay, twitching, as his sickly dark red blood stained the lot.  
  
Pulling out a few grenades, Fido jerked the hatch of the Rhino open, and dropped in a couple of bombs. Twirling away, he leapt from the Rhino, just as the explosions tore through the dark night sky.  
  
Everything was still for a moment, and then it started to rain again. White. It seared at his consciousness, piercing his tightly shut lids. Nothing else was visible everywhere was white. Then he opened his eyes.  
  
Lenny had sworn he had died, but when he took in the room around him, he wished he had. He was tied up in a chair, in a dingy room somewhere. A washing machine sat in the corner of the room, and a bed lay on the floor. The whiteness that had dominated his vision dimmed some, but, as his head swam, he still squinted his eyes against the brightness. The walls of the room were white, and the handheld spotlight beamed on him.  
  
"Hey Laslow, my name is Yankee Chan, and I'm real glad I was able to get through today." The radio. Somewhere in the room the radio was on. Nope, Lenny was definitely still alive. There wouldn't be any Laslow broadcasts in the afterlife, well maybe in hell.  
  
The whiteness faded as abruptly as it had begun. Spots danced before his eyes, but as Lenny adjusted to the new dimness, he saw a black leather jacket. Then some green combat pants. Then Fido.  
  
" I just wanted to know about the big wigs here in Liberty City. Crime runs rampant, but the organized crime leaders are all dead," the caller continued before Laslow had a chance to reply, " Well what I want to do is invite all of the heads of criminal organizations out to a picnic and softball game. You guys need to have some fun too."  
  
He nearly toppled the chair with his struggles, but a crushing blow from the butt of a 9mm stopped his movements. Resigning himself to his fait, Lenny hung his head. The restaurant owner emerged from the shadows, and glared down at Lenny. Time for things to get resolved.  
  
" Well if they're listening Yankee, I'm sure they would be happy to come on out."  
  
The interrogation began.  
  
" Who sent you to lay claim to my restaurant?" Lenny kept his mouth shut. Not daring to look up at Fido. Shit he was dead already. The guy repeated the question, and when Lenny refused to answer, Fido strode forward.  
  
Lenny felt his shoes being wrenched from his feet, and then he saw the hammer speeding through the air. With a sickening crunch the big toe on his left foot was no more. They stuffed a greasy rag in his mouth, to stifle his screams of pain. And then the guy repeated the question.  
  
This time Lenny was full of information. " I don't know, some rich guy. He lived on Staunton Island. Over in the commercial district. He had me hire out some Yardies, and he gave me them big dudes earlier." Fido slapped him across the face with the 9mm again, this time just for kicks.  
  
Lenny's head snapped back, and blood began to drip out of a gash in his head. He laughed. The interrogation continued. " So why did he do it?" Lenny shrugged, " I have no idea, I don't even know his name, I just met him where he was, and he gave me some good money." " Ya know Laslow, I just don't believe that. I think they're all hiding fro that menace, you know the black leather jacket guy. I saw him once, but I ran as soon as I did."  
  
Fido tapped his pal on the shoulder, and gave a nonchalant shrug. " My buddy over here, wants me to end you, but I like you. You've been used so I'm gonna let ya go. Never come back to Portland, understand!?"  
  
" Thanks for taking my call Laslow."  
  
They untied Lenny, blindfolded him and tossed him in the back of a Banshee. Screaming off, they drove over to Staunton and dropped him off by the park. Then they pulled away. Pedestrians stared as the bloody man, reached up and tore the piece of cloth away that covered his eyes. Shrugging they went on about their business, this was Liberty City, and one sort of got used to this type of thing.  
  
Lenny sorely raised himself up from the ground. Rubbing the gash in his forehead, he turned back uptown. He needed to get paid and get the hell away from the city for a while. He was lucky to still be alive.  
  
After walking several blocks, Lenny found his way to the guy's office building. Entering the elevator he punched in the code for the penthouse. Upon reaching the top, he stopped short.  
  
The office was bare. The secretary's desk was gone, the light fixtures had been removed, and the carpets had been torn up. There was absolutely no sign of anyone. Trembling with trepidation he moved down the dark hallway. Outside, as the night turned to day, the storm that had been pounding the city emitted one final clap of thunder, and then the clouds began to break up.  
  
Pushing the door to the office open, Lenny stopped cold. There was nothing in the room. The polar bear rug was gone, the drapes had been removed, and even the desk was missing. In the center of the room sat a single envelope. Lenny approached it warily.  
  
He opened it gingerly, half expecting it to burst into flames. However, all that was inside was a letter.  
  
Lenny, I appreciate all the work you did for me. Unfortunately, news of your defeat reached me rapidly. If you are alive to get this then understand that I am in your debt, and have left your payment with the Yardies. Go to them, they have instructions on how to go about compensating you for your trouble. Good luck Lenny, if you have indeed survived, I suggest you disappear for a while; our friend Fido is very unforgiving. --Tiger Elliot So that was the guy's name then. Lenny shrugged, and once again fingered his gash. First get the money, then get this cut looked at, then get the hell outta dodge. It seemed simple, and by the time the sun was coming down, he should be out of town. And much wealthier for his trouble. The cab dropped him by the four story-parking garage in Newport. The sun continued to climb the sky, and Lenny moved down the block slowly. He was careful to avoid making eye contact with any of the Yardies who strolled down the streets. No need to irk anyone. Just pick up this check and dash.  
  
He came, finally, to King Courtney's "office". Banging on the garage door with his bloody hand, he waited patiently, while it rose. Strolling in, he nodded at the attendants, and look expectantly at Courtney. The Jamaican gangster merely smiled at him, and reached into one of his desk draws.  
  
Sliding the envelope across the table, Courtney sat behind his desk, his eyes glimmering strangely. No matter, Lenny figured. He opened the envelope and was surprised to find another letter.  
  
You sure aren't as smart as I thought at first Lenny. If your reading this, then you have somewhere between ten and twenty seconds left to live. Like I would pay some moron who didn't even get his job done. Well enjoy the flames of hell, while I enjoy my yacht off the coast of Shoreside Vale. You fucking prick Tiger Elliot Lenny crumpled up the piece of paper. He should have expected this. This time, he wasn't even scared; this entire experience had been too much for him. He was just a crooked lawyer, and this fuck had expected him to perform like a soldier. Oh well.  
  
He raised his head, and stared, determinedly into King Courtney's eyes. The gangster unleashed his twin .45s one more time. Smiling he shrugged at Lenny, and then fired both guns.  
  
Lenny's head snapped back, an entire side of it gone. Those bullets were big. As the blood rushed up to consume his vision, he was able to form one last coherent though.  
  
Fido probably followed me anyway.  
  
Then he was dead. So we push this prick out onto the street by Belleville Park. Then Fido made me jump out about a block later. He indicated I should wait where I was, and about five minutes later he pulled up in a gold Sentinel.  
  
I jumped in and we took off. As we neared the park, we could see the prick stumbling down the streets towards the commercial district. It figured he'd run straight home. So we trailed him, and at no time did he turn around, or show any sign that he knew we were there.  
  
When he went up into the building, we waited parked at the corner. As he left, Fido passed me a note, telling me that I should head inside and check things out when he left. I jumped out of the car, and waited patiently, smoking a cigarette.  
  
Eventually, the guy came back outside, and I made my move. As he hailed a cab, I passed right behind him, and went into the office building. Jumping onto the elevator I figured I'd try with the penthouse, since these bad guy types seem to always live around there.  
  
The elevator came down, and up it went. I emerged from it and watched from the window as Lenny jumped into a cab.  
  
The cab took off, followed nonchalantly by a gold Sentinel. " Git rid a dis 'ere boy. "ake 'im away, 'an dump et in da riva' over dere." King Courtney gave orders quickly now. He really didn't expect any more trouble, but when one dealt with Fido, you expected a nuclear bomb to fall on the building at any second.  
  
About a half hour later two of his boys returned, telling his boss that things had been completed. He sighed, and then told them to stay alert. The entire block was ringed with Yardie automobiles, and they had extensively loaded up with weaponry. In addition to this, Courtney had made sure that the helicopter on the roof was fully loaded with fuel, and ammunition. If anything did happen, he'd get out of here and head to the safe house in Aspatria.  
  
Things in Staunton had become less complex with the difficulties that the Cartel and Yakuza had undergone.  
  
Now to wait and see what happened. With any luck they'd bag Fido, and he'd be the most powerful man in liberty City.  
  
Shit, not with just any luck, maybe with all of it. Fido smiled as he gunned the Sentinel down the street right past Courtney's building. By keeping his tinted windows raised up, no one was able to recognize him, and he turned sharply into his Staunton hideout.  
  
He didn't bother to put the car into the garage, rather he jumped out, grabbed a handful of adrenaline pills from his stash, loaded up on every weapon he had stored in his locker, and grabbed a vest.  
  
Then he ducked back into the Sentinel and pulled into the lot by the shopping mall. It was always more fun when one waited until the sun set. The moon had begun its climb into the dark sky. The roads glimmered in the new moon light, a result from the storm of the night before. An army of Yardies patrolled the roads directly around their safe house.  
  
One of them stopped in front of the alley by the AmmuNation. He rolled up a joint, and placed it in his mouth. He rumpled one pocket, then another. No luck. He was just about to call to one of his boys for a light, when a hand reached out of the shadows with a lighter. Nodding his thanks he lit the joint and took a few deep pulls.  
  
Feeling the chemicals take strong hold of his mental, he grinned, and handed back the lighter. Then he offered the joint to his assistant.  
  
An arm covered in black leather reached out of the shadows of the alley and accepted the joint. The Yardie raised his eyebrows in surprise and scrambled for his Uzi. Too late, however, as the hard wood of a bat splintered against his temple. He fell to the ground, lucky to be unconscious, as the bat beat down upon his skull again and again.  
  
Fido grinned, and strolled out of the dark alley, steam rising from the sewer covers mixing with the smoke from his joint. Dropping the broken bat, he fingered the shotgun beneath his jacket with excitement, as he strolled down the block. The weed was good too.  
  
A group of Yardies screamed curses in patois as they rushed towards him. He smiled and yanked the gun up. Firing burst after burst the crowd of on rushers turned into a pile of torsos and limbs. As one Yardie scrambled back down the street away from Fido, he switched guns and pulled his M16 out. Depressing the trigger, he unleashed a barrage of shots in the man's direction. They all pierced his body, spine, lungs, and skull; and he toppled to the unforgiving concrete, twitching.  
  
Fido continued to move up the street. Reaching the intersection, he pulled out his grenades and hurled several of them at the cars parked along the street. The explosion that followed hurled pieces of metal in all directions, and crowds of Yardies fell to the earth dead or useless.  
  
As he neared the garage, more of them streamed out of the building like ants, cursing him and threatening them. All of them were too eager to die. He flinched slightly as he took several shots from Uzis, but, without so much as wincing in pain, he brought up the flamethrower, and toasted the entire street.  
  
Taking a moment to glance down at his transponder, three stars, he grinned, and replenished his body armour. Then, he strolled through the crisp bodies that lined the streets. As he drew closer to the garage door, he unleashed a rocket that crumbled the thin sheet of metal.  
  
King Courtney's office. Unfortunately, it was empty. The noise of a helicopter caught his attention, but by the time he was able to get a clear shot off, it was well out of range. His smile widened. The game would continue then.  
  
Strolling into the office, he stepped around the pool of blood, and noted a letter on Courtney's desk. Lenny was dead then. That didn't matter to Fido, and he continued to file through papers. Frustrated, that the information he searched for was nowhere to be found, he kicked the desk over.  
  
Then it caught his eye. On the ground, by the wastebasket lay a crumbled up piece of bloodstained paper. He lifted it up. His smile fairly lit up the night as he left Newport, jumped into his Sentinel, and gunned it towards Asuka's housing complex.  
  
Two Yardie cars came to life in pursuit, bet he paid them no mind, as he neared the end of the road. Yanking on the handbrake, he launched himself off the highway and twirled magnificently down into the lot below.  
  
The Yardie cars tried the same, but one smashed through the side of one of the buildings, showering the lot with bricks and dust. The other Yardie car tipped off the front of the planter in front of the building, flipped up into the air, perpendicular to the ground and banged off the guardrail. It flipped over the edge and plummeted to the water below.  
  
Fido, of course, had landed perfectly, brakes squealing as his Sentinel bounced to the concrete below the road. He fishtailed the car and landed parked in front of the entrance to Asuka's pool. Grinning he noted the flames that spurted out of the fourth floor of the adjacent building.  
  
Strolling down the steps, Fido chose a police boat and sped out into the river.  
  
He was coming Mr. Elliot. The yacht floated in the river between Staunton Island and Portland. The moon had just reached its highest point and was beginning to descend over the not sleeping city. Its pale image reflected a ghostly image off the water around the boat. No lights were visible.  
  
Slowly and quietly a Liberty City police boat slid next to the yacht. Without making any noise, Fido dropped anchor, and scrambled up the side of the yacht. Landing noiselessly on the deck, he looked around. No guards, this Elliot guy must have thought he had gotten away clean.  
  
Of course that was untrue.  
  
Fido headed towards the engine of the ship. Tearing loose the cover, he stashed a Molotov in a ready compartment, stuffed it with an unusually long fuse, and lit it. Ninja-like, he slid towards the stairs that led below decks.  
  
Pulling out his shotgun, he pressed an ear against the master bedroom's door. Not a sound. Grinning, Fido brought up his shotgun, and fired a burst. The door crumpled inwards from the blast, and three forms shot upright on the bed.  
  
Flicking on the lights as he strode through the door, Fido took in the scene before him. A middle aged white man sat rigidly, beautiful blonde prostitutes on either side of him. Fido shook his head, and motioned for the man to speak.  
  
Elliot stammered through several sentences before finding himself at a loss for words. Fido nodded understandingly, and arched an eyebrow as if to ask, " Are you finished". Elliot swallowed hard.  
  
One of the prostitutes began to cry as the enormity of the situation hit her. Fido simply shrugged, and pulled the trigger. The burst tore through Elliot's chest, pinning him against the headboard of the bed. As his life essence leaked over his silk sheets and thick blankets, Fido reached over and pulled both prostitutes out of the bed. Smiling he nodded at them and then vanished back out of the door. Terry Willis was having the time of his life. The moon was full and high in the sky, and the weather was clear. Yanking the controls to the left, he felt the Dodo veer in response. As he soared over the Callahan Bridge, he dropped his gaze down to the river below him.  
  
A police cruiser sped towards Staunton, and then behind it, he noticed a red glare. Pushing forward on the stick, Willis descended slightly, interested now. As his distance off the ground neared five hundred meters, an explosion rocked the river. Flames spouted upwards, and the shockwave rocked him in the sky.  
  
As he struggled with the controls, Willis noticed that it was an expensive looking yacht that had been consumed by the flames. Not having enough time to worry about the scene, Willis turned back to the controls, and struggled to stay in the air.  
  
Fido watched from the pier, as the Dodo tilted and whirled crazily in the sky. Ah well.it wasn't his problem. 


End file.
